The streets outside the inn were already stirring. Vendors rolled up tarps and lit small cooking fires as the morning wind carried the scent of dough and coal smoke. The city had the restless heartbeat of a place that never fully slept.
Adrian pulled his hood lower as they blended into the crowd. "Food first," he said. "Something hot before we start moving."
They found a narrow stall wedged between two brick workshops — steam rising from a pot of thick broth, skewers laid across a flat grill. The woman behind the counter barely looked up when they ordered. Lucien paid with their last few bronze coins.
The broth was plain but filling. Bread soaked soft against the heat. They ate in silence, each lost in thought, scanning the faces passing by.
Lucien finally murmured, "You think anyone's asking questions about last night?"
Kael finished his bowl and set it down carefully. "If they are, we won't hear it till noon."
Adrian's eyes stayed on the crowd. "Then we disappear before that."
After eating, they moved south through the early market. The streets grew louder — merchants shouting prices, children darting between carts. They stopped at a cloth stall where cheap tunics and travel cloaks hung in uneven rows.
Lucien picked a gray shirt, the fabric coarse but durable. Kael chose black, light and easy to move in. Adrian paid with two silver coins — most of what they had left. The vendor wrapped the clothes in a strip of paper without asking questions.
They changed in a back alley, the damp air smelling faintly of iron. Their new outfits blended with the city's darker tones. Kael bundled their old, bloodstained clothes and shoved them behind a pile of crates.
Lucien adjusted his gloves. "Better."
Adrian nodded. "We stay to the side streets. No one needs to see us twice."
They slipped through the maze of alleys, moving in single file. The noise of the market faded behind them, replaced by the sound of dripping water and muffled footsteps. At one corner, Kael raised a hand and stopped.
Two men loitered near a cross-street, speaking in low tones. One wore a leather wristband marked with a small iron stud — the same symbol the thugs had worn the night before.
Lucien's voice was barely a whisper. "Castien's."
Adrian said, "We take the long way."
They backtracked quietly, turning through a side passage narrow enough to brush their shoulders. The walls sweated with moisture, the ground slick with grime. Rats scattered in front of them.
When they emerged, the sound of the city returned, louder but safer. Kael muttered, "They're spreading out. Looking for something."
"Then we keep moving," Adrian replied.
By the time they reached the outer district, the air had changed. The crowd here moved with a different rhythm — fewer farmers, more mercenaries, and faces that looked like they belonged to people who'd already seen blood.
Lucien exhaled. "Feels different out here."
Kael's gaze flicked over the weapons and armor displayed on nearby stalls. "Closer to the guilds. Fewer questions, more blades."
The Guild Branch stood ahead, its stone walls gray and imposing, a winged crest carved above the main doors. The morning light caught its edges like steel.
They crossed the street and entered.
Inside, the hall was cooler, filled with the low hum of voices and the smell of parchment, metal, and old oil. Adventurers moved in and out — some armed, others looking newly arrived and desperate.
Behind the front counter sat a young woman in a fitted dark vest, her auburn hair braided neatly over one shoulder. Her features were striking — a little too sharp to be called delicate, but her eyes, a bright gray-green, softened the look. She was writing something in a ledger when the brothers approached.
When she glanced up, her pen paused mid-write. (A.N: Is that a thing?)
Three men stood before her — tall, lean, and clearly related. There was a symmetry in their posture, the same calm alertness behind their eyes. It wasn't just resemblance; it was the way they carried themselves — quiet confidence wrapped in fatigue and something harder beneath.
Her professional composure faltered for just a moment.
"Oh," she said softly, catching herself. "You three are—"
"Here to register," Adrian said evenly.
She blinked once, then smiled — a practiced, polite smile, but her gaze lingered on Kael. He stood slightly behind the others, his black tunic loose at the collar, eyes half-lidded but aware.
"Well," she said, voice lighter now, "that we can manage."
She flipped a page in the ledger, stealing another quick glance at Kael. "Registration's simple enough. One silver each, or free if you take the readiness test."
Lucien asked, "What's the test?"
She brushed a strand of hair from her face, her tone softening almost unconsciously as she spoke, eyes still darting toward Kael. "Physical balance, reaction, and a brief will check. Nothing too harsh — though it weeds out the faint-hearted."
Kael's lip twitched, the ghost of a smirk. "We'll manage."
Her smile widened just slightly. "I'm sure you will."
Adrian cleared his throat. "We'll take the test."
"Of course." She pushed three small metal tags across the counter, her fingers brushing Kael's for a few seconds longer than necessary. "Through that door. The tester's name is Orrin. He's… direct."
Lucien accepted the tags and nudged Kael with his elbow once they turned away. "Looks like you made a friend."
Kael didn't answer, only adjusted his cloak as they walked down the hall.
Adrian said quietly with a hint of a smile, "Stay focused. Flirtation won't save us if this goes wrong."
Lucien grinned. "No, but it makes the morning less boring."
The corridor ahead hummed faintly with energy — a sign that they were getting close.
They stopped before a reinforced wooden door marked Testing Hall. From inside came the dull rhythm of strikes and low, sharp voices.
Kael's hand rested on the handle. "Let's see how we measure up."
Adrian nodded. "Time to find out."
And they stepped inside.